The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Darkness presses down on an abandoned astronomical observatory, the air thick with dust and the scent of aged wood, like an old library. Umm, it's nighttime, I think, the sky above a deep black with a multitude of stars visible through the partially shattered dome, but no moon. In the center of the room, an ancient orrery somehow maintains precise, fluid motion, its intricately carved wooden planets and gears orbiting a large, ornate wooden sun without any visible mechanism or power source, the movement eerily silent amidst the musty stillness. The air feels heavy and stale, undisturbed.